


Hurricane

by cannibalsmut



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, M/M, Romance, it's smutty but also kinda passionate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-18
Updated: 2019-06-18
Packaged: 2020-05-14 02:25:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19264075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cannibalsmut/pseuds/cannibalsmut
Summary: Two new Talon recruits meet as strangers, become fast friends, and equally fast lovers.





	Hurricane

**Author's Note:**

> leave it to one large gorgeous Samoan man to drag me kicking and screaming back into writing Overwatch fanfic
> 
> okay, maybe there wasn't any kicking or screaming involved. I might have done it willingly, even.

He was a hurricane of a man, Mauga. Baptiste hadn’t known him for long, had only been a part of Talon long enough to get his footing, but there was something about him that drew Baptiste in, something Baptiste couldn’t fully put his finger on. They’d both been recruits at about the same time, and it was impossible for any recruit to miss Mauga—the man was massive to begin with, but his personality somehow occupied even more space.

Comparatively, Baptiste had been cheerful, but quiet. He’d seen enough as part of the Caribbean Coalition to know to find his footing first, and warm up to people later. He was genial to anyone and everyone who approached him, simply because it was his nature as a combat medic, but it was more talking about them and less talking about himself.

Mauga, though...he was sharp. Calculated. It hadn’t taken long for Mauga to make friends with Baptiste, which Baptiste had to hand to him—Mauga had a knack for making anyone he spoke with a friend. But there was something in the way he spoke to Baptiste in particular, something about how he talked about his feelings and his ideas of what to do, that sat just right with him.

After years of being selfless and fighting to protect his people, it seemed for once that Baptiste had someone who wanted to protect him, too. And when they went out on missions, that was exactly what happened. 

As long as Baptiste kept Mauga alive, Mauga kept him safe. And as long as they were working together, every mission they went on was a success.

At first Baptiste wasn’t sure if it was because they’d bonded out of combat, or if Mauga’s wild style of fighting was just more calculated and less reckless than it outwardly seemed, but they fell into a rhythm together on the battlefield. Mauga would move forward and Baptiste would move with him, and if Baptiste pulled back to reposition, Mauga would change his path accordingly, unspoken.

It was a dance, of sorts.

More than anything, Baptiste loved the combined feeling of helping someone and being cared for, and as that feeling extended into the battlefield, it extended out of it as well. He wasn’t sure when things changed, or if either of them had said or done anything to cause things to shift. Mauga talked all the time, always had plenty to say, and always had that sharp smile to go with it. Baptiste had come to love hearing him talk, and spent many nights alone with Mauga talking about anything.

Perhaps those nights were where things changed. He found himself talking less at night. Found Mauga talking less too.

Found his lips pressed to Mauga’s more often.

He wasn’t sure when they’d stopped sleeping in different beds, but he knew the close proximity to the larger man excited him. They would be in the midst of a conversation and Mauga would slide smooth from the middle of a sentence to pressing his lips against Baptiste’s, taking the smaller man into his embrace as he did.

In those moments, the talking was over, but the conversation would go on long after.

Even in bed, it was a dance of sorts. Mauga would always engage first, pressing his lips to Baptiste’s, his tongue slowly sliding in after, but only far enough for Baptiste to engage back—and Baptiste would, eagerly.

The build up was Baptiste’s favorite part—not that he didn’t love the rest of it, but there was something incredibly tender about the unexpected softness of Mauga’s lips against his own, especially when paired with the hardness of Mauga’s massive body pressing down on him. It was these moments that taught Baptiste just how calculated Mauga really was. Baptiste would feel a thumb gently rub along the skin just behind his ear, the action causing a slight chill to run up his back, and he could feel the broad rumble of a laugh course through Mauga’s large frame.

Mauga would find a number of those sensitive places up and down Baptiste’s body, and proceed to caress them throughout the night when Baptiste least expected it. By the time Mauga would get to the point where he’d pull Baptiste’s loose fitting shirt off, Baptiste would be desperate for more contact, desperate for Mauga to kiss him again, desperate for anything that involved being as close to him as possible.

Even so, Mauga was calculated. He’d take his time, long broad tongue stimulating Baptiste’s stiff length and balls almost painfully slowly before moving downward, sliding along his taint before easing further down, slowly but surely rimming Baptiste until the smaller man was so desperate for anything more that he started to beg for it. And even then, Mauga was calculated, though it was with Baptiste’s best interests in mind.

The process of fingering and stretching Baptiste out took the longest, but it was far and away Mauga’s favorite part. It always started off slow, one finger pressed in slowly and cautiously. One of Mauga’s massive fingers was enough to send shivers up and down Baptiste’s spine, but Mauga was patient, thumbing at Baptiste’s inner thigh gently with his free hand to break up Baptiste’s muffled moans into quiet, desperate gasps. By the time he pushed a second thick finger in, there was no silencing the groaning coming out of Baptiste’s mouth, his erection leaking pre onto his own belly as Mauga rubbed at his prostate in between slow but certain attempts to stretch him out a bit more. 

Some nights, Mauga would get a third finger in and make Baptiste cum all over himself completely untouched, just by thrusting those three large fingers in and out skillfully enough that Baptiste would crumble underneath him, wrecked on Mauga’s hand alone. Other nights, though, Mauga would deliberately take him close that way but not let him finish, instead easing him away from the edge and pressing kisses to his mouth and throat.

Mauga was gigantic from head to toe, and his cock was no exception. It took a lot of lube and a lot of patience for him to finally press inside of Baptiste, and even longer from there for Baptiste to gradually adjust to that girth, no matter how many times he’d done it before. But Mauga was calculated. Patient. He’d learned quickly how long it took for Baptiste to adjust, and what the go signal was for when he could finally start moving. Once Mauga started moving, though, Baptiste would cling to the pillow under his head with one arm and cling to the sheets beneath him with the other, as the constant shifting in and out stimulated his prostate in a way he couldn’t ever manage to put into words.

He was a hurricane of a man, Mauga. Once he started thrusting in, it was rough and fast-paced. In seconds, the room filled with the sound of his massive thighs and heavy, hefty balls slapping against Baptiste as he thrust in and out, chasing his own pleasure while also driving Baptiste out of his mind. The constant gasps and moans pouring out of Baptiste’s open mouth would increase in volume until inevitably Mauga fucked him through his orgasm, causing Baptiste to come completely undone without having touched himself, shooting his cum all over himself and Mauga’s broad chest as Mauga finally let himself be a little less calculated and a little more passionate, burying himself inside Baptiste until he finished too.

Some nights would go on like this for hours upon end, but some would end after a single intense, passionate round. Regardless of what sort of night it was, it would always end with more gentle, light-hearted conversation, followed by Baptiste drifting off while curled up against Mauga’s wide frame.

 

\---

 

When Baptiste gradually opened his eyes and felt warmth on his body, he expected Mauga to be there next to him, his large body acting as a space heater. It took time for him to register that he was on a boat in the middle of the ocean, having left Mauga at the docks once again. It was unrealistic, but Baptiste quietly hoped that someday he could return to having those quiet nights with the one man he knew to be his partner.


End file.
